


Lego House

by shes_ariot



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/F, it is supposed to be House of Memories, repost from wattpad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shes_ariot/pseuds/shes_ariot
Summary: maybe the person i say i miss doesn't exist anymore.well, just to clarify, i miss the you i knew before





	1. House of Memories

Ever heard something so eerily foreign that you can't help but put that sound on repeat in your head because you want to try understand to what's going on?

Well, if so, have you ever heard someone you love talk to you happily through the phone - and on your anniversary no less - about how she was finally able to get out of her work early to see you, only to abruptly stop that heavenly soothing voice as a loud crash rang through your ear?

Have you ever heard your wife scream through the speaker of your phone while you're 4 miles away, working at a job you hate and you can't help but listen to her because you're too frozen to hang up?

Okay, how about this.. Have you ever heard the love of your life cry for help until the line eventually goes dead?

-

It started from a good day - great even - where I woke up in the morning to the girl I simply couldn't separate from.

Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao.

I first met her during my freshman year in NYU. I had a test the next day and Keana, a friend I had made prior, wanted to have a study date with me in a local coffeehouse somewhere near the university. But when I had just arrived there, she cancelled on me.

Although I was pissed that she cancelled on me last minute, in retrospect, I kind of owed her a lot because she helped me find the girl I can't help but fall for.

Camila was a barista there, working as a part timer.

Pretty cliche, right? Like the movies. Meeting a girl from a coffee shop and falling in love soon after?

Depends. I guess you'd be the judge of that.

-

"Excuse me Miss?" She said politely. "What can I get for you?"

I didn't look up from my phone when she asked, too busy throwing profanities towards Keana for canceling on me.

"Can I get a latte?" I said, my eyes still glued to my phone.

"Alright. Size?" She asked.

"Large," I mumbled, seeing as I would be needing tons of caffeine.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Large." I spoke up louder, probably coming off as disrespectful.

"Look Miss, I'm really tired and to be frank here, I have a low tolerance for rude people. So can you just please put that phone away when you order? I'm pretty sure your little boyfriend there can manage without you for a few minutes," she said. And although she was relatively polite, I didn't perceive it that way at that time. To me, she had just added more flame into my already gloomy mood.

Finally, I looked up to meet the slightly aggravated girl, taking my time key-pointing her facial features; her brunette hair flowing down her small shoulders, her perfectly trimmed eyebrows, her physically tired brown doe eyes, her cute little button nose, her prominent cheekbones, her full mouth and her sharp (slightly crooked) jawline.

A huge lump formed in my throat, feeling attacked by her beautiful sculptured face. But Keana was pissing me off and I couldn't help but allocate my anger towards the girl behind the counter.

"And you wanna know what Miss.." I trailed off, looking at her name tag.

Camila Cabello. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

"Camilla.. Your salary is based on your customers. The tips we give you are probably the reason why you're alive right now. So put that attitude up your ass and maybe you can get enough tips to buy yourself better clothes."

She was wearing a black Ralph Lauren t-shirt though, but my stupid condescending self thought it was a knock-off.

Her demeanor changed to anger for a second before she shook her head, smiling rather wickedly.

"I'm sorry, you're right. We are, after all, peasants to you customers." She retorted sarcastically. But before I could talk back, she continued. "I'll send your latte to your table Miss.."

"Jauregui. Lauren Jauregui."

"Jauregui, of course. I'll send your drink to your table once it's finished," she said politely, a tight smile plastered on her face.

I took out my wallet from my bag but was soon stopped by her. "Oh no, it's okay. As a token of my apology, I'll use my tips to pay for your drink."

"You don't have to," I replied, cautiously watching her.

"Oh no, please. It's on me."

I eyed at her warily. She was polite. A little too polite. But nonetheless, I accepted it, seeing as she didn't seem like she was backing down anytime soon.

The drink came soon after by the woman herself, smiling cheekily as she approached me.

"Here you are, my master," she mockingly addressed me but went unnoticed since I was busy checking her out shamelessly. I couldn't see her waist down behind the counter, so when I could, I took my time looking at her black jeans that was hugging her thin legs but voluminous back.

"Thanks," I said back, shifting back my attention.

When she walked back to the counter, I could have sworn she swayed her hips in an exaggerated manner; but hey, I wasn't complaining.

Since Keana couldn't be there, I studied in the coffeehouse alone; near the entrance door, eyeing the brunette from time to time while I drank my latte, only to see her smile smugly at me when I did.

I didn't know why.

When the time struck 9, I saw her take off her small apron and walked out from the counter.

I wanted to apologize for being condescending towards her and maybe ask her out after, but I knew it wasn't ideal.

So as she sauntered her way out of the door, I sighed defeatedly, knowing that I was missing my chance. But the world worked differently because before she completely walked out, she turned to me with a smile.

"I spit on your drink by the way." And with that, she walked out of the place.

My mouth was left ajar, staring at the now closed door she had just walked out from. I was surprised to say the least. Never have I met a girl who would actually risk her job for a stupid ungrateful customer.

Even as I cringed when I realized that I drank three quarter of the drink, I didn't complain.

After all, I wasn't that blind to not know that I was the one at fault.

Although how we met was far from love at first sight, I wouldn't have changed it any other way.

I was intrigued by the girl.

I did see her again after that though. The next day after that actually. But instead of seeing Camila in her black attire at night, I saw her in a baby blue sundress in my class.

Feeling a surge of confidence run through my veins, I walked over to the Cuban and sat on the vacant seat next to her, causing her eyes to open wide when she realized who I was.

It was a big class after all. I wouldn't blame her for not knowing that I was her classmate. Even I didn't.

"Hallo," I smiled and from my point of view, I saw her visibly gulp. "Small world, huh?"

"Sadly," she whispered, crossing her arms defensively now as she stared at the bottom of the room, hoping that our lecturer would magically present herself at that very moment.

"Your saliva taste nice by the way," I flirted, even as I inwardly cringed at how disgusting it sounded.

She scoffed and whipped her head to my direction. "Can you just scurry away? You think I'm an inferior to this ungodly world, I think you're an asshole with a stick up your ass. Why try to get acquainted when we simply don't fit?"

"Look, Camilla right?"

"Cameela," she corrected the pronunciation to her name, pushing the 'eee'.

"Camila..." I started. "I'd like to apologize for my rash behavior yesterday. I wasn't having a good day, my friend stood up on me and I was stressed about the upcoming test I had."

She cut me off with a scoff.

"Anyway... although I had a bad day, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. So to show how genuinely sincere I am, I'd like to take you out to dinner this weekend."

Her eyebrow raised considerably when I finished my sentence, maybe wary that I might have an ulterior motive at hand. Or shocked that I wasn't like who I was the day before.

"And no, I won't spit on you food or drink," I added, causing her to chuckle a bit.

It was my new favorite sound when I first heard it.

But just like her sassy self, she didn't accept me that easily. "What? Your boyfriend broke up with you because you couldn't reply to him when we were arguing yesterday?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," I said simply. "I like girls."

Her eyes grew wider, but it wasn't judgmental, it was more like intrigued and maybe curious.

She was thoughtful for a minute, seemingly weighing her options before I interrupted her again. "Please.. I promise I'll be at my best behavior."

She seemed like she wanted to say something but I interrupted her.

"And before you ask, I have no other ulterior motive. Just a small dinner."

Skeptically, she accepted and shared our contacts to one another, just before our lecturer came.

And that was how we started.

Through the years, we still playfully bickered, making our relationship far from those boring ones people usually complains about.

We skipped every relationship milestone together; from first dates, to first kiss, from first fight and first everything.

And although we had fought from time to time, we never loved each other any less from when we were still that young youthful adults.

During that first date, I had also found out that she was rich. Like seriously loaded.

The fancy restaurant I brought her to as a surprise was actually one of her dad's restaurants, making me question why she worked in a small coffeehouse in the first place.

Her reply was, and I quote, "I wanted to experience how it was to work. Sure, I could easily work at one of my dad's businesses, but where's the fun in that?"

And with that, it answered how ignorantly dumb I was. Her last name was literally everywhere in Manhattan, I just didn't realize it yet.

Our first kiss was magnifying. Just simply, groundbreaking wonderful. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy once our lips touched and I could literally hear fireworks erupted in the back of my mind, making me lightheaded from the explosion.

"Whoa," she whispered when we broke away, confirming that she too, felt it.

Our first time together in bed was probably the most magical night ever.

The way she looked at me. The way she kissed me softly. The way she held onto me. The way she willingly submitted herself to me (It was her first time with a girl so I took it upon myself to guide her), clawing against my naked back as she came undone with a strong shudder, shaking uncontrollably below me.

"You're so beautiful," I cupped her cheek with my free hand, kissing her lips softly against mine.

She smiled lazily with half dazed eyes and I rolled on my back, pulling her against my body so that her head was resting on my bare chest and her arm was draped on mine, both of us sleeping soundly soon after.

The first time we fought was when I saw that her ex-boyfriend had texted her, and that she hid it from me.

We were in the middle of cuddling and watching a movie in her private theater in her home and her phone that was sitting idly on the cup holder vibrated, causing both our attention to snap on the offending device.

Although I couldn't see the text he sent, I knew it was him; Michael.

"Who's that?" I played dumb, hoping she would reply truthfully, only to be lied to right in front of my face.

"Dinah," she replied easily, cuddling into my side once more. But unlike her, I had a no bull-shit policy. Doubt etched my brain, thinking of how easily she lied to me, and I wondered just how many times she did.

She knew how I felt about liars. Just one week before that, we had a talk about our exes and I had mentioned that my ex had lied and cheated on me, making me hard to trust just anyone.

But I trusted her. And she broke it.

"I have to go," I stood up abruptly, causing her head to fall to the seat that I occupied previously.

"Wait what? Why? The movie just started," she said, following suit to stand up.

"Yeah, it's getting late and-"

"It's 7 at night Lauren." She interrupted, looking right through me.

"Yeah, and I have to go."

"Why?" She asked again as she walked towards me, closing the gap between us.

Just as she wrapped her arms around me, I backed away. The hurt in her eyes evident as her eyes locked on mine

"I don't want to be lied to anymore," my insecurities flared as I said those words, realization dawning over her.

"But Lo-"

"No. I already told you how I feel about people lying. And you still did it. Right in front of my face."

She opened her mouth to say something but I interrupted her once more.

"Maybe this relationship is actually one-sided. Just like previous one." I backed away again. "Lying might mean nothing to you Camz, but I really can't do it."

"Do what?" She whispered.

"Date liars."

"No, Lauren. Listen to me," she walked towards me once more, taking my hand on hers so she could pull me to her.

Looking back now, it was ridiculous.

"Camila please," I retracted my hand away from her. "I need some time to think about this."

Walking away from Camila, she whispered, barely audible. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No.."

"Are you gonna?" Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up at me, waiting.

"I'll talk to you soon Camila." I walked out of the house and into my car with blurry eyes, barely holding it together.

We didn't talk for a week after that. The days were filled with tedious classes while the nights were spent on crying myself to sleep. In classes that we shared together, I moved to another seat, feeling too awkward to sit next to her that time. Don't get me wrong, I was willing to hear her out then, but I didn't want to be the first one to initiate it.

She was the one who lied after all.

But when Friday came, I saw her in the dining hall with Ariana, causing me to fume as I watched them interacted easily.

Just when Ariana excused herself, I trudged to Camila and dragged her just outside of the dining hall, near the parking lot.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked, anger evident just from my voice. You could only imagine my facial expression at that time.

"What do you mean? I thought we broke up?" She asked, getting a bit defensive.

"Did I say that?"

"No, but I assumed that we did since you promised to talk to me 'soon' and never did," she answered, her voice sounded raspy, her eyes seemed puffy and her hair was clearly disheveled. But other than that, she was the same Camila.

"You didn't even fucking try to contact me!" I basically shouted, people nearby cocking their heads towards our direction, watching silently as the drama unfolded before them.

Camila, not wanting to gain attention from bystanders, dragged me to her car in the parking lot and basically pushed me into it before she went in herself.

We took off as she drove away from the lot.

Taking deep breaths, she turned to me. "I thought you were gonna do it. So I waited. And waited. And waited. I still am."

"Then why did you hang with Ariana? Unable to close your legs for more than a week?" I snapped, causing her snap her attention to me.

"Are you calling me a slut, Lauren?" She asked as softly as possible. But still, venom was slowly dropping out of them.

"No. I'm sorry." I said honestly, looking at her side profile, softening my voice but not quite the usual yet. "That was uncalled for. I'm just really angry that you'd move on that fast while I had spent my night crying because I couldn't see you."

"I wasn't moving on," she assured. "She wanted to eat and she was adamant to bring me with her, saying that I had been moping around too much."

"Okay," I said simply, looking ahead as the car maneuvered through the road.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Look Lauren," she started. "I wanna explain what happened last week."

I nodded and she took it as her cue to continue.

"It was Michael, not Dinah. I lied," she looked ahead.

"I know."

"But I didn't cheat on you," she asserted immediately, her grip on the steering wheel beginning to tighten, causing her hands to whiten considerably. "He had been texting me nonstop the other day but I never replied."

"Never?" I raised my eyebrow incredulously at her.

"I mean, the first time he texted, I didn't know who he was because I lost his contact. But when he told me, I didn't."

"Why did you lie then?"

"I didn't think it was a serious issue to be honest. I thought that if I didn't do anything, he would go away. I didn't want you to know cause I didn't quite care." She explained. "But I forgot that you have trust issues. Not to mention that I shouldn't have lied in the first place, so I'm sorry."

I was thoughtful for a minute.

"Please..." She pleaded. "I don't wanna lose you for someone who doesn't even matter to me anymore." She said desperately." I really, really like you, Lauren." The traffic light was red so she was able to turn to me with tears eyes.

And at that point, I didn't even remember why I was mad in the first place.

"I don't wanna lose what we have either," I whispered softly, painting a sad smile her way.

"So are we okay?"

"Yeah, just please don't lie to me again."

"I promise," she said with such conviction.

She took her hand on mine and leaned to kiss my lips softly, smiling when we pulled apart.

"I miss you," she whispered, her breath hitting my lips, causing the familiar butterflies to erupt in my stomach once more. "That one week was so shit."

"It really was... And I miss you too."

After that first fight, we had grown considerably close that we were basically attached to the hip.

The first time we said I love you was when we had just fought the second time. We were just so frustrated about how we both wanted to say it but we were too scared that the other might not feel the same way.

We were so in love with each other that we started to think it was unfair because the other didn't seem like she'd reciprocate.

And that made both of us mad.

That day in particular was already a bad day for me, so I couldn't really mask how aggravated I was.

"Why are you so pissy?" She asked when I groveled my way to her room in her apartment. She was sitting on the desk chair, writing essays on her laptop.

We didn't live together but we might as well be. At that point of relationship, she was either sleeping over in mine or I slept over in hers. We even had each other's keys.

"Nothing," I huffed, slumping myself to her bed, not bothering to take my dirty boots off, subconsciously doing it deliberately because I knew just how much it would tick her off.

"Lauren, stop being so unsanitary, get your shoes off my bed."

"Hah. Your room is already dirty. Might as well add some more," I replied, not making any move to remove her shoes.

She sighed and said, "Lauren. Get. Your. Shoes. Off. My. Fucking. Bed," punctuating each word for effect, turning the chair around to face me.

"Make me."

"Lauren.. Just take your fucking shoes off," she said exasperatedly.

"No."

"Jesus fucking Christ. LAUREN PLEASE. IM ALREADY STRESSED OUT AS IT IS. Please don't make me kick you out."

Without a word, I took my shoes off, making her exhale a deep breath, thinking that she had won.

Turning back around, she started to continue typing into her laptop. I stood up and walked over to her, the muddy boots on my hand.

Suddenly, I put the boots on her desk, near her hands. Sure, she's messy, but when it comes to her body, she always tries to make herself as clean as possible.

And that clearly ticked her off.

"LAUREN. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She yelled as she swiped the shoes off her white table onto the floor. She stood up and faced me, her body stiff.

"What?" I said rather smugly, knowing that she'd be more irritated by how nonchalant I seemed.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY APARTMENT. LEARN A THING OR TWO ABOUT RESPECT THEN MAYBE YOU CAN COME BACK."

"And if I don't?" I asked, challenging her.

For a second, I could see the hurt in her eyes but it was gone just as fast when she blinked.

"Lauren, don't be an asshole," she sighed.

I took a step towards her, causing her to instinctively walk backwards until she her back hit the desk.

"Wh-what are you doing?" She stuttered as I took another step, walking into her personal space.

"What am I doing?" I breathed, passion was still there but all the anger dissipated and was soon replaced by love and lust.

"Don't. I'm still mad at you." Even as she said that, I could see how her restraint was slowly deteriorating. I brought both my hands to her bare hips (she was wearing a short crop top) and she shuddered under my grasp.

"I'm mad too." I said without a thought. "But I still love you."

And... My eyes opened wide considerably when I heard myself say it. She was too, but it immediately changed from surprised to fondness real quick.

"I love you too," she whispered, her chocolate eyes fixed on my green ones, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. With her reaction, I finally calmed down and smiled. "But I'm still mad at you."

"No you're not," I brought my lips to hers, kissing her with all my might to convey just how I felt about her through it.

And soon, we both became one with each other.

The first time we moved in was when we were both in junior year for college, seeing as we didn't see the point in paying rents for two places when we were clearly living in one; hers. Most of my stuff were there already so I didn't really put up a fight with it.

The next milestone we crossed after was probably when I asked her to marry me. We had both finished our school then and I thought that that time was as good as any. I didn't want to wait any longer.

I had actually rented the whole coffeehouse where I had first met her and brought her there sometime at 7.36pm.

It wasn't a major way to propose really, but it was enough for us because it held a lot of memories.

"Lauren, why are we here?" She asked me as I excitedly dragged her out of the car and into the place.

Although there were tons of people there, there was that one table that I asked to leave vacant because I wanted her to get to get the full experience.

It was the same place I first sat when Camila had told me she had spat on my drink.

Although renting the whole place was kind of redundant - especially since all I asked them to do was to leave one of the table - but it was necessary because I couldn't take one flaw in my plan.

While she sat, I took my time ordering a latte for the both of us.

The special thing about her latte was that below the cup laid a printed picture of a ring and question that said, 'Marry me?'

At first, I thought it would be better to just put the ring into the drink but I was scared that she might choke on it since latte aren't transparent. And they're kind of sticky.

But much to my dismay, she didn't want to finish her drink at first, so I was struggling under my seat, too impatient for my own good.

"Camila, just finish the goddamn drink.."

"Why?" She asked warily, her eyebrow raised considerably. "You didn't finish your drink that time."

"That was because you spat on it. I would've," I sighed frustratingly.

"You're acting weird," she said pointedly. "You're sweating even. Are you okay?"

"Just finish the drink Camz," I wiped my face, getting worked up about how my plan wasn't as smooth as I wanted it to be.

"Oookay," she took the cup and tipped her head, drinking all of the contents. I thought my nerves would finally calm down but it didn't. I was anxious for a different reason then.

When I saw that she was finishing her drink, I saw her stiffen as she pulled the cup to see the printed picture and looked over to me, only to see me down on one knee with the ring in the velvet box on my hand.

"Remember when we first met.." I started. "It was in this very same building in the very same store. Sure, it was cliche as fuck. Yknow, meeting someone in a coffee shop." I paused as she laughed, her eyes welling up with tears as she realized what was happening. "But in actuality, it was far from it because we hated each other's guts when we first met. You even spat on my drink... that was how much you hated me." Again, another laugh released from her lips. "But I was oddly intrigued and really wanted to get to know you more after. To be honest, if it wasn't for me seeing you in the class we once shared the next day, I would've come back here the next night.

"Sure, it wasn't ideal since you met the worst version of me that night. But I wouldn't have changed anything because if I wasn't an asshole that night, you wouldn't have spat on my drink and I would have treated you like any other worker here. I wouldn't have noticed you either. I would've walked home and not think about you like I did that night.

"I love you Camila and I always will. I don't want to live another day without you. I mean I can." She laughed, along with the customers in the shop. "But I don't want to.

"I know this place is far from fancy. But this was the place where we first met and just by the memories we have here, I wouldn't have thought of proposing you anywhere else. It holds so much more than a pretentious restaurant with expensive decorations.

"So Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao, I would like for you to be my one and only wife. I hope you do too," I finished the speech with a pounding heart, basically serving it on a silver platter as I wait for her reply.

"I do too," she said as she stood up and pulled me into an engulfing hug. "I really fucking do."

I breathed out the air I didn't know I was holding as claps erupted when the onlookers heard her reply.

Our wedding day was the perfect one yet. It was outdoor by the beach of her parents' private property and although it was small, the decorations were over the top.

Camila's mom had taken it upon herself to decorate it alone. We didn't mind though because although it was supposedly our special day as an official pair, we didn't care about how it'll look at the end of the day.

We just wanted the marriage, not the wedding.

-

"Hi, baby." She squeaked giddily when I answered her call.

"Hey Camz... What's up?" I asked while I multitask between listening to Camila and writing a draft for the advertising company I worked for.

It wasn't what I wanted to do but I was 25, I still had time.

"Happy 3rd Anniversary!!!" She shouted and I couldn't help but laugh at her antics. "I wanted to surprise you by going to your workplace but I'm too excited as you can see. That's why I'm telling you now. Get ready for me in 10 minutes. Wait no- 20 if the car infront keeps going at.." She paused. "20 miles per hour. Jesus Fucking Christ..."

She horned the car frustratedly.

"Come on.. I wanna see my wife here." She grunted.

"Wait Camz, are you driving?" I asked, pausing whatever I was doing on the computer to focus on Camila. "You know how I feel about you calling when you're behind the wheels."

"Relax Laur, you're on speaker."

"Still.." I started.

"Baby, I just miss you and I want to hear your voice. Is that so wrong?"

"No, of course not. I miss you too."

"Okay yay.. That bitch is off the road, expect me barging into your room with a very banging work outfit in a few," she said jokingly.

"You look banging every time," I said as her dirty-minded soul chuckled. "But okay baby, I'll see you soon.." I said, almost clicking the end-call before she interrupted me.

"Don't hang up yet. I still want you here."

"Oh, okay then," I replied and turned the phone into speaker so I could continue writing my work without holding onto the phone. "Just don't drive fast."

"Okay," she relented. "I just can't wait to see you. I can't believe this is our third year of being a married couple."

"I know baby, I can't wait to see you either." I laughed. "God, we're so clingy. We just saw each other this morning."

"And 8 hours is just too long Lauren," she gasped through the speaker.

"God, I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby. You'd be the death of me one day."

And just like that, the universe took it too literally when I heard a car crash into her car.

Not soon after, I heard a loud cry that sounded like my wife but I was too confused to focus on the sound. I fell into a daze, barely listening to anything that was happening through that speaker. Probably because my mind thought that it was better than reacting.

Because if I were to react right then and there, the office would've looked like a hurricane just came by.

When the phone call ended though, I realized what was happening and I ran out of the building, repeatedly re-calling Camila back.

Maybe I heard wrong.

Maybe that was just my imagination.

Maybe she was okay.

But what I heard was exactly what happened.

\---

Have you ever wanted to turn back in time to do something differently?

Have you ever wanted to change your profession because you felt useless for not being able to contribute to help your wife's life.

Because to be quite fucking honest, this was what I had always hated; depending on someone you barely know for the lives of your loved ones.

I depended on the doctors to help my abuela and clearly, they failed.

\---

Soon after, I got a phone call about where Camila was and I immediate drove my way to the hospital, not caring about how reckless I really was.

Ironic really.

I waited in the waiting room that were filled with people that were probably waiting for the same thing as me, some even crying loudly as they waited for the results. My eyes were blurry but the tears never actually ran down my cheeks. An unwanted question repeating itself inside my head; If I ended the call early like I planned on, would Camila still be on my arms?

I was stoic - just like the time when I heard her cry for help, as I waited patiently in the room - not moving an ounce of muscle at all.

This was the place where dead people supposedly come back alive. This was the place where it's supposed to be magical. But as of that moment, I couldn't feel more dead than I already was.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until a man in a white coat called out my name.

"Mrs Jauregui-"

"Mrs Cabello-Jauregui," I corrected him.

"Right, sorry. Mrs Cabello-Jauregui. I'd like to discuss a few things about your wife's condition."

"Is she okay?" I asked suddenly, my heart beating rapidly as I anticipated his answer.

"She's alive. But there's a few complications so it's better if we discuss it privately. Could you step into my office for a minute?" He said, already walking towards his office as I followed him.

His office was pretty much how most hospitals look like. White to the point of blinding. Empty to the point of detach. Even as he tried to make plants as decorations to mask the fact that hospitals are frankly boring and disconnected.

Another irony I have discovered since they mostly connect machines and tubes into the human body. That, along with how dead this place feels when they try to keep people alive.

"Please sit down," he said as he gestured the chair across from his.

Silently, I sat down and just stared expectantly at him, waiting for what he had to say.

"The surgery was a success," he started, causing me to sigh internally in relief. "But as I said before, there's a few complications due to the direct collision between the car and your wife."

And that was when he explained the technical and biological terms of how she had 17 broken bones in total, 14 on her ribs, and 3 on her arms. But most importantly, he had also mentioned how she had a brain injury due to her skull that was fractured as the aftermath of the crash.

He said that although she is alive, she would be experiencing a coma as of that moment and that she might have problems remembering a few things when she does wake up.

But I didn't think it was bad at first. Just as long as she was alive, she's okay.

He let me go after and I went to her room immediately, my heart breaking when I saw the external bruises on her face and body for the first time.

I could only imagine her bruises internally.

Her face was swelling at some parts; the purple and red coloring her beautiful face. Everywhere around her were full of machines, making her body look smaller and vulnerable than she already was.

But still, I waited in the room.. Even if it kept breaking me when I saw how much pain she had to endure to keep herself alive.

She was subconscious for 2 months. 2 months of me dreading for her presence and 2 months of me hoping that she'd finally wake up. Those 2 months, I had spent it on sleeping on a hard couch in the room of the hospital, barely holding my size since it was small.

I barely went to work and when I did, I usually went out early.

Our family came at least twice a week during those 2 months, looking just as hopeful as I was every time they did.

Although they cared about Camila, they cared about me too. Something I didn't at that moment. They saw how unhealthy I was and every time they visit us, they'd come bearing gifts that were clearly just foods that Camila couldn't eat. They'd also try to bring me out to eat sometimes, knowing that I haven't been eating as much lately.

Little did they know that I was just craving for Camila's burnt dishes.

I sang to her during those 2 months. I read tons of books to her, reading out loud so the room wouldn't be filled with just her heart beating through the monitor. I told her stories about my boring life, hoping she was listening like she always did before.

I thought that waiting for her to wake up was the worst part. Oh how dumb I was...

When she finally awoke at around 8.22am after that 2 months, I was so elated, almost jumping around like a little kid who finally got what he wanted.

But when she spoke with her raspy voice, I felt like my heart was thrown into the dark abyss.

"Who are you?" was her first words to me after 2 months of me dreading for her to wake up.

I stared at her. I knew I should've expected this. The doctor did tell me how she might experience a few symptoms of memory loss due to the injury. Not to mention the medicines she had to take.

But damn, did those words hurt so bad.

"I'm Lauren," I started, walking towards the bed where she was laying on. "I'm your wife."

"I have a wife?" She questioned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. We got married a little after three years ago," I quirked an eyebrow, hoping that maybe that information would make her recall something. Anything.

"But I have a boyfriend." She said questioningly, making me frown. "Where's Michael?"

That broke my heart. My mouth was left agape as my eyes locked on her.

How could she remember him and not me?

"Where am I? Is this a joke or something?" She asked, trying to sit up but winced when she felt her abdomen sting. "Seriously, what's happening here?"

She waited for me to answer, looking expectantly as she did. Even if she looked like the girl I loved since I was 18, she clearly wasn't. She looked at me without that spark of love that was always there before the accident.

I didn't realize that I was staring at a stranger disguised as my wife.

"Excuse me Miss?" She asked, pulling me out of my daze. I almost saw her when she said it. That was her first words to me ever. "Where am I?"

"Uh-" I was interrupted when a nurse who usually regulated her blood intake came, only to stop when she saw that my wife had woken up.

"Oh you're awake. Let me get Dr. Johnson here for a minute."

She left the room and Camila once again looked back at me, tilting her head as if it could help her to figure me out. She looked so curious and innocent.

"Who are you again?" She repeated what she had asked.

"Lauren. I'm your wife."

"That's what you said just now. But if you are, why can't I remember you?" She asked, looking skeptically at me.

The door swung open and the doctor who had performed the surgery for Camila came into view.

"Camila, how great of you to finally wake up," he said calmly as he took the clipboard from the end of the hospital bed and flipped through the pages.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"The hospital. You were involved in a car accident two months ago." He explained, clearly more helpful than I was at that point. "Do you remember anything during those events?"

"No?"

"How old are you, Camila?" He asked smoothly, almost as if he was so used to this.

"16? 17? 18? I honestly don't remember."

"How about this, do you remember your family?"

She looked up for a few seconds, seemingly in deep thoughts. "Yes. My mom, Sinuhe. My dad, Alejandro and my little sister, Sofia."

"Great." He said then pointing at me as he continued. "Do you remember her?"

I looked over to Camila and saw that she was thinking once again, trying to get any recollection of me.

"No," she said, looking over to me with her eyebrow quirked up.

How could one forget her own spouse?

"Alright," he said softly the directed his words to me. "Miss, I'd like to talk to you in private for a few minutes."

I nodded and we made our way to his office, closing the door once we were in.

I took a seat at the same place I had two months ago and he took his behind the desk.

"So, although we have to run a few tests on your wife soon to confirm what she is most likely experiencing right now, I'd like to just personally tell you that she has one of the symptoms of partial memory loss called Dissociative Amnesia. It's a term that we use when one, like your wife, has experienced a traumatic event such as the car accident or abuse and is unable to recall some of the memories earlier in her life. In this case, you..."

That statement caused my head spin, making unable to listen to the doctor as he explained more about the condition Camila might be having and the symptoms of the amnesia.

"How could she not remember me but remembers her family and one of her ex?" I asked after he was done.

"Usually, dissociative amnesia is triggered by the stress she had to endure before the accident," he paused. "Let me ask you this, Mrs Jauregui. Have you ever hit your wife?"

"What?! Of course not." Only in bed, I thought.

"Have you ever done anything that might cause her any type of stress?" He asked again, his elbows leaning against the desk as his chin rested on his knuckles.

"I don't think so. She was fine before the accident. It was actually our anniversary and she was on her way to meet me," I explained.

"Maybe, that's why. Stress is a state of tense feeling and although she wasn't somewhat stressed, maybe she was having strong emotions before the crash."

I nodded, not knowing what to say.

"The good thing about this amnesia though is that the memories still exist but they are deeply buried within the person's mind and cannot be recalled." He explained as I tried to grasp what he was saying. "However, the memories might resurface after some time on their own or even after being triggered by something in the person's surroundings. Like dejá vu."

"How long does it usually take for her to recall back her memories?"

"That depends on the person themselves. I guess it's your job to maybe bring her to some of the places you've been to that might trigger a recollection of some sort to her."

I nodded and we talked a bit more about Camila's condition.

I went back to her room after he dismissed me, my brain pounding, making me dizzy, at the informations he had disclosed, now a little wary to be close to Camila.

For the sake of my heart.

I called both our respective families to bring them the news about Camila's consciousness, and just like expected, they were joyously happy. They said that they'll be coming over soon, impatient to meet the strong girl who basically survived death.

Before they went in the room though, I had told them that she lost some of her memories so if she didn't remember some things, don't be surprised.

They asked me if she forgot anything from me and I told them that she forgot about me completely, to which they sent a pitiful and sympathetic look my way.

They crowded her soon after and I stayed back, watching the interaction between her and our family.

Much to our surprise, she remembered my family. Which was so odd and she doesn't remember how she knows them. But nonetheless, they were happy that she did.

She just didn't remember me.

They stayed until the visiting hours were chasing after them. So when the time struck 9pm, they went back home, leaving me and Camila alone once again.

I sat on the chair next to the bed and just looked at her, her doing the same as if trying to decode me through her gaze.

"I'm sorry I don't remember you," she said softly. "I asked my mom if she knew who you were and she said that you really are my wife. I know you told me that two times already, but I just needed more verification."

At least she's not trying to fight it, I thought.

"But if I remember everyone - even your family - why can't I remember you?" She asked and I dragged the chair closer to the bed.

I wanted to kiss her so bad at that moment. 2 months lack of any type of contact with her.

"I had a talk with your doctor and he said that before the accident, you had an intense feeling of something similar to stress and it kind of caused a temporary memory loss."

"Huh. What happened before the accident?"

"I'm not sure either. You called me to tell me that you were dismissed early so you were gonna come over to my work."

"Okay." She dismissively said, turning her attention to the television that were playing some old show.

I sighed. I wanted to tell her every memories we had shared, one by one, but I didn't want to overwhelm her.

After all, she did just wake up.

I thought it would be easy though, considering she never fought against me. She accepted the fact that I was indeed, her wife. I was a bit relieved that she wasn't like the typical amnesiac girl portrayed in movies where she fought against the guy at first, thinking that he was a mere stranger.

But that's just it, wasn't it? This wasn't like the movies.

I thought the first day was hard, oh boy it was going to get a lot more harder.

The second day, she asked me something that made me question the existence of Hope.

"If you're my wife, does that mean I'm gay?" She asked when I was feeding her fruits, her eyes full of curiosity.

I chuckled when she asked that. "You never really questioned it. You kind of let it flow. Like when I asked you to go out with me, you never pushed your sexual orientation to me so I just assumed you were Bi."

"Huh.. Did I date any other girl before you?"

"I don't think so. If you did, you didn't tell me about it."

"Okay," she said again, opening her mouth for me to feed her.

"Any other questions?" I asked, knowing just how much questions she had as of that moment.

"Where's Michael?" She asked, not knowing that she asked the one question I will never, ever like. "I know you're my wife and everything, but what happened to him and I? The last thing I remember of him is how much I love him."

Keyword; Love. Not loved.

My body tensed when she said it, not moving an ounce of muscle. But even so, my heart pounded hard against my ribs, an irrational set of jealousy course through my veins.

"Or you know, you don't have to tell me," she said immediately, sensing the shift in demeanor on my part.

I nodded and continued feeding her.

I thought that that moment was the end of her asking questions about her past lover. But I was wrong.

No, she didn't ask me about him anymore, but I heard her ask Sinu the next week when she thought I was out of earshot.

I was buying a much needed dark coffee from the cafeteria when I heard them talk. I was about to walk in the when I heard her ask.

"Mami, what happened between Michael and I?"

"You ex-boyfriend from high school?" Her mother asked. "Well, uh, he got into a university in Washington and you got accepted in NYU."

"We broke up because of the long distance?"

"Yes, and that you guys weren't ready for a serious relationship at that moment."

"Oh, but.. If we broke up due to the circumstances and not because we both fell out of love , could it be that when I met Lauren, I was still in love with him? Am I still in love with him?" She questioned. "Cause like, if I don't, why do I still remember how I feel for him now?"

My body went rigid once more as I heard what she was saying. Doubts and fears crawled everywhere on my mind, plaguing every memories Camila and I had.

Could it be that I was just a rebound?

Could it be true that Camila was still in love with him whilst dating me?

Could it be true that she still loves him now?

Every happy memories we had before began to be filled with questions. What if she married me because I was there when she was desperate for a new love?

"Oh honey," Sinu interrupted my thoughts. "Believe me, you love Lauren a lot; more than you ever did on Michael. Even a blind man could see it."

"I just wanna understand why I remember everyone and not her," she whispered.

And with that, it was enough for me to move forward at that time. Sure she's questioning our love, but hey, considering she didn't forget about me, who wouldn't? I thought that I just needed to bring her memories back.

We spent another one month in the hospital while she healed under the observation of the doctors and nurses. A week after she was awake, they did a few tests on her and was officially diagnosed with Dissociative Amnesia.

After that one month passed, although she still had a few bruises here and there, she was discharged and was able to come back to our home. I just needed to regulate her intake on those medicines and help her on a few things like showering.

Sure, she was getting better physically and mentally, but she still didn't remember who I was and each day, she slowly became cautious with me.

She thought I was a stranger.

I know it shouldn't hurt me. She was only like this because of the accident after all. It wasn't intentional at all. But damn, it hurt so much.

The way she looked at me with curiosity everyday, like I was a mere stranger.

The way she flinched every time I instinctively touch her because I was so used to doing that back when we were okay.

The way she keep things to herself, not trusting me enough to talk about how her day went, even if she was just at home.

Don't get me wrong, to a certain extent, we were okay. She didn't question when we went to our home alone when she was finally discharged. We never fought. We still hang out when I went back home from work.

But it just wasn't how it used to.

She was still so cautious with me.

Back then, when I came back home, she'd usually engulf me into a koala hug, kissing me everywhere as if I had gone somewhere for a decade.

Now, she just says hey or if I was lucky, she'd wave at with a genuine smile.

Back then, when we have late night movies, she'd cuddle up to me and she'd kiss me from time to time to show just how much she loved me.

Now, if we do have it, she'd put a considerable amount of space that made sure that we weren't touching at all.

Back then, when we eat dinner, we'd actually talk and bicker playfully with her sass and my sarcastic self.

Now, we don't talk. The only sound that filled the dining room would be our spoons and forks colliding with the plates. Unless she has a good day. If she does, she'd make a small talk about the weather. Either way, the huge elephant just stared at us with amusement.

That took about 3 months until I was finally done with it. I wanted to go with the flow so she'd remember things bit by bit. But clearly that wasn't working. I was just so desperate to find the girl I once knew.

So I took her to the coffee place where I was convinced she'd remember.

But she didn't, and that kind of killed me a bit. I told her what happened here - both the first time how we met and how I proposed to her - and although she was intrigued, she still couldn't remember one bit.

Everyday she was healing, and although I was happy for it, I was beginning to become impatient. She was getting better but our marriage was deteriorating because she couldn't remember a single thing about me.

A few more months and she was finally able to go back to work, much to her relief. She was getting tired mopping around the house.

When I came back home after her first day back to work, she hugged me.

I thought that maybe she finally remembered me. That she finally remembered us.

But she only did it because she was so happy about her job. Sure, I was a bit disappointed that she still didn't remember, but at that moment, I was glad that she was still the same Camila in a way.

She had always loved her work, even if she hated the location because it was far from mine.

But I smiled, listening to how she gushed around at the welcome back party her boss and colleagues hosted specially just for her; whom she also remembered. I thought that hey, at least she was willing to talk to me about her day.

And that gave me hope that she was finally comfortable with me.

She also talked about how she finally has an assistant. An assistant that she clearly adored by the way she talked about them.

She forgot to tell me one thing though.

One day a few months later, I wanted to surprise her at her work, bringing a rose and pizza along with me.

I walked into her office I knew so well and was surprised when I saw that she was talking animatedly to someone.

Someone I loathed so much.

Michael.

I've never met him but Camila had once showed me a picture of him because I was curious of my 'competition'.

He wasn't even that good-looking to be quite honest.

But damn does it hurt looking at her talking to him like she once did with me. She was smiling hard and her eyes had that spark she had always reserved for me and only me back then.

I clenched the rose that it soon wilted under my grasp.

"Lauren?" She asked when she noticed my presence, my feet were glued to the floor while I was staring at them. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you with food," I trailed off as I warily looked at the man that was across from Camila.

The man turned and stood up, extending his hand for me to shake it. "Hi, I don't think we've met before. I'm Michael, Camila's assistant."

She forgot to tell me that.

I just eyed his hand and his face, clearly not touching him anytime soon. Thankfully, he realized that and retracted it awkwardly.

"Lauren, Id like for you to officially meet Michael, my assistant." She gestured. "Michael, this is Lauren, my- uhhh.." She hesitated. "My wife."

She looked down and my heart felt a ton heavier than it already was. She sounded like she was ashamed of me. Like she was ashamed of the fact that she was stuck with me.

I was angry. Of course, I was. Who wouldn't? But I didn't want to start a fight with Camila at her job. So I just laid the pizza box on the table and gave her the dead rose.

I left without a word, my face red and my body tensed.

But still, I cared about her. I made her dinner like I always did. But she only came back home at around 9pm.

The dishes turned cold by then.

"Where were you?" I asked when she saw me in the dining room. "You got off work 5 hours ago."

"I went out with Michael for dinner."

"And you couldn't at least call me to let me know?" I asked rather aggressively. Not only did she basically stood me up, she went out with her ex. Her ex whom she still might have feelings for.

"My phone was dead, why are you so pissed?"

"Because Camila, I fucking made a feast for you."

"So what? You could always save it for lunch tomorrow," she said.

"But that's not the point. I made it for you."

"And I'll eat it tomorrow... I'm tired Lauren, I'm gonna head to bed," she said dismissively, walking towards the bedroom we used to share.

That was another thing that changed. She was uncomfortable with sleeping beside me so I took it upon myself to temporarily occupy the vacant room beside ours.

It was safe to say that when lunch came the next day, she never did eat what I made for her.

She went to lunch with Michael once again.

It continued for 4 months and the end of that 4 months was when I was finally embracing that she might not remember me at all.

We were constantly arguing and we never actually made up. We just walked away when it got too heated.

We even got more distant, as if that was possible.

She always went home late while I just cried as I waited for her to come back in the place I once called ours.

Every dinner I made went unnoticed by her.

4 months of me being stuck because I didn't know what to do. Sure, she's still Camila and she still has some aspects that often reminds me of her, but she wasn't my Camila.

That's when I noticed; She was a stranger to me just as I was to her.

So towards the end of that 4 months, I decided to ask her where we stood.

She went home and I brought her to the couch in the living room.

"Where are we going with this?" I asked, not beating around the bust any longer.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean us, where do we stand?"

"We're married, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but are we really? You're acting like we're strangers. We don't even talk."

"But were still married, aren't we?"

I stared at her, blinking once. Twice. Scared of what I was gonna ask after.

"Do you want us to be?" I said finally, my heart clenching and the tears slowly forming on my eyes.

Sure, we weren't close. But we were once and it really hard to let it go just like that.

"I don't see why not." She answered. It wasn't a yes but it wasn't a no either. I felt like she only wanted to be with me because she felt obligated to.

Like I was merely a chore.

"I don't want you to be with me because you need to repay me in any way. I took care of you after that accident because I wanted to."

A pause. She just looked at me in a daze as she thought about it.

"Okay.." She said.

"Okay?"

"I'll think about it," she said, which further verifies that I really was an obligation. If I wasn't, she would've stood by with whatever she said before.

Another one month passed. We still weren't close but she was gradually letting me in once again.

Sometimes, when I'm lucky, she'd even come back home right after work.

It gave me hope once again.

But then, when she came home early one time, it was destroyed once more. And this time, it did completely.

"Lauren, can we talk?" She said cautiously as she took a seat on the couch across from mine.

"Sure," I paused the show I was watching and focused my attention solely on her.

"Remember that talk we had about whether I want to stay or not?" She said and I nodded, my heart beating rapidly at what she wanted to say. "I think I made my choice."

"And..." My eyes welled, blurring my vision since I already knew the answer. No one would be this serious if they wanted to send a positive answer.

"I'm sorry." She said, not really answering but she knew that I knew. "I don't think we're happy."

A sob came next and I just couldn't hold it. Tears were pouring out of my eyes and I was such a mess.

She stood up and sat next to me, holding me close to her while I cried my eyes out, consoling me.

It's funny. The only time we were finally affectionate with each other was the time where our relationship really ended.

"I'm sorry," her voice cracked as she spoke, on the verge of tears. At least she wasn't that heartless, I thought. "I just think that this is better because I keep hurting you.

"This isn't even about Michael. This is because of the fact that whatever I did, I feel like you don't approve. I feel like you're not in love with me but rather the person I was before the accident.

"Every time I did something that reminds you of her, you light up, only to sigh when I remind you that I still can't remember.

"I tried. I tried so fucking hard to remember. Like, did you know that I didn't come late from work because I was spending time with Michael?" She paused, crying softly now. "It's actually because I went to therapy. Before I was discharged the hospital actually recommended me this doctor who was professional for people like me.

"So I went to him so maybe I couldn't disappoint you anymore. It hurts just how much I did.

"And if I wasn't in therapy, I'd be walking around the places you brought me when you tried so hard to make me remember months before."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked softly as she still held me close, her body heat radiating through mine.

"I didn't want to get your hopes up like I always do, only to be disappointed at the end of the day," she whispered, her voice kept cracking and it just made my heart clench harder.

"And sometimes, I feel like I remember you. Like I was at the brink of remembrance, but I never did. And it's so frustrating.

"Even as I did everything I could to remember you, I never did and I keep disappointing you nonetheless.

"I want you. And I think I love you. But the problem is, I don't think I'm in love with you."

I cried more, my breathing erratic and my eyes just keeps pouring non stop.

"I don't want you to keep being disappointed Lauren. You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.

"You miss the old me, not me. You love the old me. Again, she's not me. We just look the same.

"I'm sorry," she said again, I could feel her tears on my forehead. "I'm so fucking sorry that I can't remember you, my own fucking wife."

We continued crying without a word, holding onto each other. And at one point, I felt her lips kiss my face repeatedly.

First, she kissed my forehead.

Then, she kissed my cheek.

My other cheek.

My nose.

The corner of my mouth.

And finally, her lips connected mine for what felt like centuries.

Oh, how I missed those lips.

It escalated quickly that innocent kisses turned into desperate ones.

I was just so desperate to hold onto her that night that I was willing to connect with her any way I could in expense to her breaking my heart completely the next day.

It then turned into a full on make out and we both just stood up from the couch together.

She dragged me to the our bedroom and we made love to each other; almost as if we really did.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed and a pounding head. The room was empty and some of her clothes and essential things were gone.

My heart was completely broken when I saw that she wasn't coming back at all; even after the chemistry we had that night. I searched around the room and saw a note she personally wrote.

'In an alternate universe, maybe I wouldn't be in that accident and maybe I could actually remember you and love you eternally.'

Sure, Camila didn't die in that accident. But she might as well be. To me, she was a another person after that accident.

Like I said, if only our lives were like those movies. Maybe then she'd remember me after last night.


	2. Homesick

"Are you okay?"

"Will you be fine?"

"What are you going to do?"

Questions after questions rolling off everyone's tongue aimed towards me as they looked both sympathetic and curious. I get why they did it; the need to comfort me after what happened. I get it. But sometimes, it's just a tad bit much because I, for one, don't know yet.

Am I okay? I mean, the love of my life had just wanted a divorce with me. So am I?

Will I be fine? That question is so simple. And yet, it holds so much power that I almost broke down when I had heard it. Since I had first met Camila, my future had become entangled with hers and it's just hard to see a future where she isn't there with me anymore.

What am I going to do? Honestly, what can I do? Is there a book or a guideline of what to do after your spouse wants a divorce? Should I go out and celebrate or should I stay in? Should I find another person to fill the void Camila left? Should I relent to what she had proposed or should I go to Camila and try to convince her that us separating isn't the best idea?

What Camila had said is true. Everyday since she had woken up from her coma, my heart just kept breaking and my hopes kept deteriorating. So she thought that instead of her painfully clenching my heart slowly, she decided to just punch it out of my chest completely. Quick and effective.

We made a promise to each other. We promised to be there for each other, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

The question is; she had technically died from that accident, so is the vow even valid at this point?

But even if she was different in a sense, that doesn't mean that I don't want her. After all, we had been through so many obstacles that it's hard to give up just like that.

After she had disclosed everything she had been doing for the past month, it was clear that some things never change. She had always been diligent and loyal. She had spent countless hours every day trying to fight for a marriage she doesn't even remember having. She tried everything in her power to get her memories back and I understand why she had given up.

I asked her if she wanted a divorce. If I didn't, she would have probably tried harder. Because I know— I know that she had never once questioned our marriage until I did.

But that wasn't my fault either. Anyone who was at my place would question it. I had to ask her because I felt like we weren't going anywhere.

It was merely the circumstances God had put us through that eventually broke us apart. She never deserved to be a victim in the car crash in the first place, and I didn't deserve to feel like I was neglected.

But life's unfair and we all need to get that wrapped up in our head.

I had a plan. It was just like any other but it was still a plan. I was going to graduate college by the time I was 22; and I did. I was going to marry the love of my life; and I did that too... Right after college. I was going to work somewhere that involved politics; I haven't but hey, I was still young. I was going to rent an apartment with my wife and make them our home; and it was, until it wasn't anymore. I was gonna have kids with the love of my life; although we had spoken about it a few times before the accident, we had never actually gone through it (mostly because we felt like we weren't ready since we were still trying to build a fortune)

All of those plan had almost gone smoothly for 25 years but it was easily misdirected into a timeline I didn't know I could have. In just a click of a finger, I had lost my wife.

One that meant everything to me.

So now, all my plans had gone through the flames. Everything seemed futile. My determination was dried up every second I tried to keep our marriage together. My promises had been thrown onto a river with a strong current, destroying whatever was left of our vow.

So should I even ask myself what I should do with my life? It was pointless.

-

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Normani asked as we sat on the dining room, blankly staring at the papers spread before me.

The dark-skinned was my childhood friend and had been with me through everything. She had seen me falling in love with a boy named Keaton. Then, she had seen me foolishly falling for his sister. She had seen my first development of the (not so) accepting phase of the idea of liking another girl.

Through it all, she never failed to make me feel weirded out and with this, I have never felt grateful about her temporarily staying with me.

Not only had she been with me while I was searching for myself, she had also been with me through everything after the downfall of our marriage. She had found out about what had happened when I called her just five minutes after I read Camila's note the morning after she left. 

Normani's engaged to Dinah, Camila's bestfriend. How they met was actually through us when we decided to bring our respective bestfriend out together to show that we were both serious. Without realizing, Dinah and Normani connected in ways that I couldn't comprehend and now, years later, their relationship is stronger than ever.

While Normani is staying with me, Dinah is with Camila wherever she's living. I had tried to tell the dark-skinned girl that I was fine (even if I wasn't) and she shouldn't stay with me while Dinah is in the same city as her.

Normani shook her head and said that Dinah and her wanted this. They wanted to be there for their bestfriends as Camila and I go through with the divorce.

Now, one month after Camila walked away from me, her attorney had knocked on our door and had given the papers for me to sign to confirm our divorce.

I haven't seen Camila since that night. Most of her stuffs were still in my apartment and for some reason, I still hadn't felt the compulsion to pack her stuff up, or even shatter everything that reminded me of her.

I felt numb.

All of her things were still how she left it. Instead of sleeping in the master bedroom like how I should have, I had decided that it was better if I occupied the same room I had when she was here.

It just felt foreign for me to sleep in our room now. Especially since we had sex on it before she left.

The room still had that distinct mixture of vanilla —her perfume— and coconut —her shampoo— diffusing through the room. It just felt entirely wrong for me to just remove that nostalgically sweet scent.

I know that at one point she had to come back here to pack everything up but right now, I could at least imagine that she was still here.

I am still in my delusional state.

The apartment was hers just as much as it was mine. Actually, this apartment is more hers than mine.

Her parents were the ones who actually gave the place to us. The owner of the building was their family friend and when they heard that Camila and I were searching for a place to live together, they simply gave it to us.

There were marks of her in our home. Like, the flip flops she had left inside the bathroom because she didn't like the floor that were full of diseases and germs (her words, not mine). Or the dish detergent she had filtered everyday near the sink because she didn't trust the dishwasher I had installed to make our lives easier. No, she'd rather become domestic and cleanse through our dishes for 15 minutes straight after our meal. Even if it was just 2-3 plates.

But that was all the hygienic factor she had painted in our apartment. Here's a fact, she might be clean when it comes to hygiene, but she is probably the messiest person I had ever met.

Exhibit A, her clothes. Just stepping a foot into our —her— room, you're probably gonna step on her clothes already. Most of her unwashed clothes were splattered all around the floor of her bedroom and it almost seemed like there was an earthquake in the walk-in closet. She was never one to sleep with clothes on so after a long day, she'd just strip down to nothing while all of her clothes fly across the room.

The living room. One time when we had just moved in, she was dancing to Reflection by this girl group I know nothing about around the room with a box on her hand and at one point, the box flew from her grasp to the island in the middle of the kitchen that it had created a big dent on the marble countertop. We both laughed it off soon after and until now, I didn't have the heart to fix it.

Just looking at it could easily make me laugh.

The furnitures were all picked by the both of us, together.

It was back when we had just moved in, we were so excited to officially live together that we cleared any old furnitures we had so we could make new memories by buying new ones.

We walked around IKEA and in midst of it, we decided to have some fun. To every section of the store, we'd act out as if it was really our home, imitating that one scene from 500 Days of Summer, the one where they were playing house.

So with all these memories vividly playing in my mind, it's a little bit harder for me to move on.

But, alas, what could I do? Moving out would be too much of a hassle.

I stared at the divorce papers, re-reading every black ink that is printed on the white sheet, tears filling my eyes and blurring my eyesight.

I signed the paper.

-

It took exactly three months for Camila to finally reach out to me after we got a divorce.

"Hey, Lauren." Her voice was small and reluctant, making my heart clench at how timid she sounded. She was always the one who is unafraid to speak up, so this is definitely another change.

"Camila?" I asked, even though I saw the caller ID prior to the phone call. It was still 'Wifey' because my heart felt too heavy at every attempt in changing her contact name.

"Yeah, hey."

"What's up?" I asked, acting as nonchalant as I could, even as my heart pounded so hard that we're finally talking again.

"Uh, are you busy right now?"

"Um," I looked around my office, stacks of folders that are probably taller than the Burj Khalifa laying idly on the table. For some odd reason, I felt like lying. "No, why?"

"Are you working?" She asked.

I bit my lip, contemplating on whether I should lie or not. She could be asking if I wanted to hang out with her —and I really want to— so I decided to lie. "No, I don't have any assignment today so my boss gave me a day off."

"Oh," She trailed off.

"Why?" I pushed further.

"Well, I just wanted to go over to your place and pack my stuff." I internally sighed at how disappointed I was that she obviously didn't really want to hang out with me. What was I thinking? "Are you in the apartment?"

"Uh, I am actually."

"Oh well, another day the-"

"Wait," I cut her off. "I wouldn't mind if you clear your stuff up now, it's not like we have to avoid each other. Hell, I could even give you a helping hand if you want."

"Really?" she asked, sounding more than surprised.

"Yeah... Of course."

"That could actually be helpful. Alright, I'll be there in 30."

Let's just say that I drove just as fast as I could to make it at home before she could.

-

"Oh my God, I am such a mess," she pointed out as she walked into her room. "Why didn't you clear it out?"

"Oh, uhhh. I haven't stepped into your room since you.. uhh.. left."

"But this room is the master bedroom, why aren't you sleeping here?" She inquired.

Because of you, you fucking dumbass, I thought.

"It just- It doesn't feel right." I shrugged, attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.

She nodded and we walked over to the closet. As I look around the room, I heard her sigh once she found out that the closet wasn't any better. "This is gonna take forever. I haven't even found a place to stay yet."

"Wait what?" I perked up, almost causing a whiplash by how fast I turned to her. "Where have you been staying then?"

"A hotel room.. Uhh, my parents haven't been accepting the news of us divorced yet so I don't wanna push my luck by asking them to find another place to live."

"Shit," I muttered, feeling guilty now. So all the times I stayed sulking in the apartment, she was struggling to find another place to live. "Why don't you live here? I'll pack up and you'll have the place to yourself."

"Oh no, please. I would never let you do that. Besides, didn't you read the divorce agreement? I basically gave you the apartment."

"Really? To be quite honest, I didn't read much. I just signed it because I trust that you won't take advantage of me in any way." And that it hurts to even read that you really wanted to get a divorce.

"Oh, well yeah. The place is yours. I can't take it back. I'll find another place at some point."

"Well, why don't you stay here in the meantime?" I blurted out, before I caught what I had said. But nonetheless, the damage was done so I decided to try to convince her anyway. "I mean, your things are already here and I won't be using this room anytime soon, so why don't you stay here until you find another place to stay?"

She looked at me skeptically, probably trying to figure out why I was willing to let her, the girl who has broken my heart countless times in a span of a year, could be so generous as to let her stay for the time being.

Sure, generous could be a valid term to use in this situation. But in all honestly, the real reason I wanted her to live here was because I still wanted her in my life. I'll never admit this to anyone but I still didn't want to let her go, even if we had already broken up. She might forget about me, but I could never forget her and what we had.

That, and the fact that I wasn't ready to live alone just yet. Normani, after 3 weeks of staying with me in the now empty apartment, had just gone back to Miami because she couldn't stay with me forever.

So sure, generous is one. Selfishness is another.

Camila looked around the room, contemplating on whether she should accept it or not. Skeptically, she eyed my feigned nonchalant facial expression . "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't mind," I said with my one billion dollar smile, hoping that she doesn't see a glimpse of hope surging through my body.

-

The first few weeks of having Camila back into the apartment was weird, to say the least.

There were obvious tensions between us -- a huge elephant staring at us mockingly as our awkward encounters unfold before him.

It started in the kitchen, a few hours after we moved all of her things back into her room. After months without a roommate, I forgot that Camila already moved in. She was always in her room the whole afternoon putting her things away so she could finally call the apartment home once again. So that night, whilst cooking dinner, I decided to put modesty aside and just wear a bra and panties.

It was a habit I had gotten used to ever since I first moved in with Camila back when we were still together since I didn't want the cooking smell to glue stuck to my clothes. But ever since the accident, I deemed it inappropriate to parade around half naked even if she was still my wife.

When Camila moved out, however, I picked up on the habit once more.

In midst of cooking, I was humming to the music as Lana Del Rey's Cola was blaring out of the speaker in the kitchen. That was my mistake. Because then, I couldn't hear the door open and close, along with her feet slowly padding towards the kitchen floor.

I did hear a gasp though, causing me to almost hurt my neck at how fast I turned towards the source of sound.

She stood there, wearing an oversized sweater that has half of a Britain flag and sleep shorts that has small pineapples scarcely printed on it, the expression of shock etched on her face a she stared at my body.

On instincts, I squeaked, "Fuck," then blocked my body with hands, as if it could cover my naked skin.

She was still static, her eyes locked on the flesh of my bare skin, making me grow self-conscious and insecure at her lack of reaction within each second that passed. I looked around and searched for anything that I could cover myself with, only to come up empty handed since the only thing that was at my reach was a bunch of bananas.

After what seemed like hours, she was finally out of her trance and she shook her head. The chocolate eyed latina turned around, mumbling an almost inaudible "Sorry." And almost immediately, she was gone again.

The next day after that wasn't any better either. For some reason, God wants one of us to suffer — my kind of suffering is more of sexual frustration —because the second I walked into the living room, the first thing I saw was her wrapped in a small towel that left nothing for imagination as she paced around the room, seemingly searching for something. What's worse was that when I walked in, she was almost bent over, meaning that I could see a glimpse of the lower part of her ass.

My own train of thought slammed into my head and I was dragged to the euphoric dream of my ex-wife; with her naked in bed looking at me over hooded eyes, magnetizing me by her seducing smile—

She cleared her throat and yanked me out of my inappropriate daydream, causing blood to rush to my cheeks and I immediately looked everywhere but the brunette in front of me.

"Have you seen my phone anywhere?" She asked over the deafening silence.

I looked around and at first glance, I saw that that it was sitting idly on top of the end table near the couch. I pointed at it, causing her to curse inwardly at how stupid she was to not check there first.

She walked over to her phone and scrolled through it as I stood there awkwardly, contemplating whether to forgo my initial intention, which was to watch TV, and walk back to my room or not. It was my home too so why should I hide when I could waste it on TV shows and popcorn. But then, holy fuck is this awkward.

"Um Lauren," she pulled me out of my train of thought once more with her silky voice. It was funny because just the mere calling of my name could cause my heart to flip and a riot to break out inside of my stomach. "I just wanna say sorry for walking in on you in the kitchen yesterday. I heard that you were cooking and my always empty stomach needed to see what it was. I didn't know you were," she cleared her throat. "Half naked."

"It's okay," I answered, my face heating up at the embarrassing ordeal the day before. "I'm sorry too for walking in on you, well, now."

"Oh no, it's okay."

Awkward silence ensued. The tension was palpable now, eating the both of us alive while we glanced at anywhere but each other.

"Well-" I spoke up suddenly without a second thought, desperate to fill something — anything — onto the silence coating the air. She looked over at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue, so I decided to just pull myself away from the uncomfortably tense air and watch something in my room. "I'm just gonna... go back to my room now."

-

That following week, the hours I spent at home was wasted on mostly in my room, afraid of any other awkward encounter that might happen between Camila and I the second I try to walk out.

And if it did happen, it always leads to an awkward greeting and a hasty goodbye.

Until we had enough.

One fateful Saturday morning, a couple weeks after she settled back in the apartment, we crossed paths once more in the kitchen. Her back was on me as she was focusing at the task at hand — which was cooking — when I walked in. Since she hadn't seen me, I juggled between leaving and staying, which I soon decided on the latter because Camila attempting to cook can make anyone happy, even if it's in the morning.

Just as she inserted a piece of bacon into the frying pan, a sound of the oil burning intensified, causing her to squeal in surprise.

I chuckled softly as the story of Camila cooking unfold before me. Anything related to the kitchen — aside from eating, of course — really isn't her forte.

She almost dumped another bacon, and that was when I decided to step forward.

"Okay Camila, don't." I walked over to the station and halted her movement. As amusing as it was to watch her cook, I preferred the apartment to stay in tact for now. "Let me help, just sit down."

"But-" She tried to oppose.

"No please, I don't have anywhere else to live," I joked with a small smile playing on my lips. "Just sit down and I'll cook for the both of us."

She objected physically with a pout, her bottom lip jutting out more than necessary, but backed away to the nearest stool nonetheless. "At least you have clothes on now," she joked, causing me to laugh lightheartedly.. For some reason, it didn't make me blush like I would've.

After some time, I was finally done cooking and we were sat across from each other on the dining table, a somewhat comfortable silence blanketing the air.

"I cooked one of these bacon right? Which one is it? I bet it was perfect."

I looked at her with an unamused expression and showed the bacon she fried; which was distinct since one side of the bacon was burned out.

"Nevermind. I don't think I should cook from now on."

"Why did you?" I asked curiously. Before this, I always see her eat cereal for breakfast, so that morning was a new occurrence for the both of us.

"I've been eating cereal for so long now, even before I moved here. I wanted something new," she answered softly, looking down at the now empty plate.

"Why didn't you just tell me, I could've cooked for you." I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I thought you didn't want me near you. You always avoid me every time we bump into each other, like I was a plague," she whispered the last part, hoping I didn't catch it. But I did. "I didn't want to be more burden to you."

I didn't think it through. I thought I was doing her a favor by dodging more awkward incidents but I didn't know that it was causing Camila to feel self-conscious about her stay here.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. I mean, the first two days were pretty awkward. So-"

She laughed now, surprising me by how light it sounded. "I have to admit, it really was. Especially since one of us wasn't dressed properly."

I blushed.

"But I really want this to work, Lauren."

"What?" I asked out loudly.

"I don't want things to be awkward between us," she clarified. "I want us being roommates, despite our history, to work."

I pondered over it for a few seconds. On one hand, this could bring us closer together and maybe then, she'd remember, or at least fall in love with me again. On the other, this could bring us closer and my love for her could intensify while she falls in love for another.

But nonetheless, I still wanted her close to me. "Me too," a soft smile etched on my face.

-

After the talk we had, Camila and I were able to communicate better. The brown-eyed girl was a lot more laid-back and she became comfortable with me than she ever had after the accident.

I mean, don't get me wrong, there were times where it was a struggle.

Walking into her eating ice cream in the middle of the night with nothing but a cropped tank top and shorts was not ideal for a sexually-frustrated Lauren.

But other than sexual tension — mostly on my part — we were like friends who apparently live together. It felt like everything fell back to place.

For once, it seemed like Camila really liked my company.

For once, it seemed like I wasn't an obligation to her anymore.

-

"Oh come on Lauren, I bet I can do a back flip," she cockily pointed out. I didn't know where how the talk went from The 1975 to backflips, but that's the thing about our dynamic. We connect so well that we could talk about one thing and it'll escalate to so more random discussions. I was never one to get tired of our conversation.

"Oh please, you can barely even walk straight, what more a backflip." I said, acting indifferent which I knew would fuel determination on her part. This made her stand up from the couch and stared down at me.

"You wanna see?" She narrowed her eyes, raising a brow as to challenge me. She tried to look threatening but on my book, she just looked cute.

"I'd like to see you try," I challenged. With that, she silently looked around the small space, searching for a space so she could do a 'backflip.'

I didn't know she was serious until she tried to push the coffee table to the side.

"Okay shit no. Please don't. One major hospital trip for you is enough."

-

"Lauren? Can we get a dog?" I heard Camila shout the second I stepped into the apartment. Heavy footsteps padded through the floor towards where I was and soon enough, Camila showed herself in a disheveled state, wearing nothing but a huge grey sweater that was big enough to cover half of her thighs and long orange socks. If you looked close enough, you could see that there were chihuahuas' head sewn on the socks.

"What why?"

"Why do I need a reason to get a dog?"

"Cause they're dogs, Camila. You need to think things through. I mean, think about the responsibilities that might entail. Feeding them. Having to walk the dog everyday. You need to bathe it from time to time. They're nightmares. Why not get a cute little fish?"

She pouted, her bottom lip poking out the way that was just too adorable, making me turn mushy, my knees finding it hard to stand straight. Before I gave in, I looked away and walked towards the couch, slumping down when I did. She followed suit and sat beside me.

"Because I want to pet it. Fishes are cute but they're too fragile for me to even touch it," she answered.

"Oh trust me, I know. I had a pet fish once and he almost died because of it."

"How?" She twisted one of her leg and turned around to face me, making her knee touch the side of my thigh. The electricity that jolts through my body, even with me wearing a pantsuit, was so palpable that I couldn't help but shudder at the contact.

I shook my head as to keep my head and mind straight, clearing my throat to remove the bile that just formed on my throat. The air got lighter by a bunch when Camila did nothing but smile at me, oblivious to my reaction at a mere touch.

"Rocky, the name of my late fish, likes to kiss my finger. Every time I put it in-"

Camila chuckled.

I cocked my eyebrow up. "Get your mind out of the gutter. Anyway, every time I put it in-"

Camila chuckled again.

"Dammit Camila."

"I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Anyway," I narrowed my eyes on her. "Each time I put my finger in his bowl, he kisses it. And one time, I had a long day so I needed my fish to kiss my finger to feel his affection and love. And he kissed it like 3 times which was more than enough. On the third time, I decided I had enough fish kisses so I pulled my finger out of the fish bowl really fast. Little did I know, Rocky had decided to make out with my finger just then and so, when I pulled it out, he flew to the other end of the room and I started crying and screaming. It was a mess because I had to dig through a pile of books and clothes to find him. Luckily, he was still alive when I put him back in the bowl. He was pretty mad after that though."

Camila laughed wholeheartedly, clutching her stomach when she tried to hold it in. "I'm sorry but that is so funny. Poor Rocky. Where is he now?"

"He died a few months later. I think he was too old. It's either that or my family forgot to feed it since I was in college when he died."

"Probably the latter."

"Probably," I sighed. "Damn parents."

"Tell me about it," she smiled softly. "But anyway, as gratifying as it will be for you to take care of another fish, I still want a dog."

"We live in an apartment though. Would the landlord let us?"

"Oh shush. The owner of the building loves me. They can't throw us out."

"But why dogs? They're a mess," I tried to reason.

"Why not a dog? I want something hairy to pet."

"You have your legs," I pointed out jokingly, causing her to slap my arm. "Ouch. It's true... Look at that thing, it's full of hair."

"Shut up Lauren. You love my legs."

"Yes I do."

I chastised myself internally, unhappy that I'm making it awkward once again. Thankfully, she let it go.

"Are they really that hairy?" Camila asked curiously, looking down at her legs.

"Yes."

"Dammit. I'm gonna go to the bathroom now." She stood up and started walking towards her room. That didn't stop her from rambling though. "But we haven't finished our discussion Lauren. I still want a dog. I'm really determined to get one. I'm not gonna forget this topic at hand. I'm great at persuading so we're gonna own one at the end of the day, I know-" As she got further and further away, it became incoherent.

She forgot about it when she came back and saw boxes of pizza laying atop of the coffee table. I struggled in holding back my laugh when she said, "What did we talk about before I showered?"

I hate to admit it, but she really was a great coaxer. Because the day before her birthday, I adopted a puppy and surprised when she came home.

It was worth it though, because the second she saw him, she screamed and hugged the puppy for dear life, almost killing the dog along the way.

-

We named it Leo.

-

"I'm home," I called out to no one in particular, cracking my neck to the sides because of the long day I had in the office.

"Lauren, help!" Her ear-splitting voice rang out to my eardrum, accompanied with the sounds of splashes and groans to the otherwise silent apartment. "Leo! Stay still."

I walked towards her room, ignoring my pounding heart when I saw the unmade bed as memories of our night together flashed before me, and into the bathroom, curious as to what she and the puppy were doing.

The Latina was disheveled, hair messy with drenched shirt as she tried to hold Leo down and into the half-filled bathtub, but he didn't make her job easier by splashing the water around trying to avoid the puddle of water.

I let out a full-throated laugh, amused at her effort to wash the impish dog without a partner.

"Don't just stand there, Lo." She squealed out when Leo tried hopping away from her grasp. "Help me."

As amused as I was to watch Camila struggle, I felt bad after a few seconds. I took ahold of the dog and crouched beside the bathtub alongside her, holding onto Leo as Camila splashed water on him.

Soon enough, Camila deemed him clean and we wrapped him in a huge towel that only his head was peeking out of it.

It was as if the fur ball was our very own baby.

But I shook the thought out as fast as it came, not willing to dwell on the thought of having a family with my ex-wife.

Leo rested on her bed with the towel securing him from the cold air while Camila and I walked back into the bathroom to clean up the mess he made before he bathed.

"Thank you, I didn't know how much longer I could hold him before you came. If it wasn't for you, I would've had to chase after him with water dripping down his fur. The apartment would've been a mess."

"No problem Camz," The nickname rolled out of my tongue faster than my brain could process, causing my eyes to pop out of its sockets once I realized what I just said.

"Camz?" She asked curiously. "I've never heard of that name before."

"Yeah... Uhh.." I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly subconsciously. "It was a nickname I gave you back... then."

"Why did you stop?"

"Uh.. It felt weird calling you that after the accident."

She was thoughtful for a moment, just eyeing me while I grew nervous and I didn't know why.

"Well, I like it. I don't mind if you call me that." She paused. "Actually, I would have preferred it."

"Well, alright then. Camz it is."

-

Each day that passed, it became easier. Life, in general, became easier after Camila moved back in. Granted, it wasn't like how it was back when we were together, but it was better than the time when everything was tense right after the infamous accident.  
It felt like I was starting a new friendship with a stranger; exciting and exotic. I didn't know what the future held — and it didn't matter as long as I get to stare into her welcoming chocolate eyes — every time we were together.

We had so much fun, pranking and joking around that I forgot that we weren't together. And I didn't mind it, not at first, until Normani blurted out something that burst the bubble filled with delusions.

-

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Normani shouted through the phone's speaker.I had just told her that Camila and I were living together again.

(More like she found out when she overheard Camila asking if I wanted anything since she was going out for a bit)

"Mani, chill... It's really fine. We seem like we're old friends than anything else," I reasoned, sitting down on my bed dejectedly since I knew that I was gonna hear an earful that night.

"Stop lying to me and yourself Lauren. You still love her and you're still hoping for her to get her memories back."

"No..." I said with no conviction whatsoever.

"Oh really? Then tell me why Lauren. How did you fucking decide that it was fine to let your ex-wife live with you?" She spat bitterly and I winced at aggressive she sounded.

I knew Camila was my ex-wife, goddammit, but Normani really didn't have to remind me.

"I just... I feel bad that I'm living in the apartment while she struggled, okay? I know she gave it to me. But come on, her parents bought it for us and it's not like I was using her room."

"Yes.. I know but that doesn't make this right. You're still trying to get over her, Lauren. This won't be healthy for you."

"I know but-" I was cut off before I could excuse myself.

"She doesn't remember anything. And I doubt she will. This is unfair for you because you're left with memories she doesn't have while she gets to be happy with Michael-" she stopped talking immediately, indicating that she didn't plan on blurting out the last part.

"Wait, what?"

Silence.

"Normani. What did you say?" I pushed some more.

Silence.

"GODDAMMIT MANI. What did you say?"

I heard a sigh at the end of the other end of the receiver.

"She's with Michael, Lauren." Normani's words were like a punch to the gut and I gripped the phone tighter that I almost heard it cracking.

"What?" I was baffled, completely and utterly confused. I tried thinking back, trying to find instances where Camila said or did anything that might've hinted that she was with someone else.

There were times where she looked at her phone more than necessary, but I didn't dwell more on it because I thought that it was Dinah or her other friends that were texting her.

There were also times where she went home later than usual but again, I reasoned it as her friends bringing her out.

I should've known better.

But then, how could I? I was so blinded because we were having so fun together. I was falling for her more and more and I thought that she felt the same.

She didn't tell me anything about Michael every time we were together, how was I supposed to know that she became his?

This was what I was scared of, and it was happening.

-

I was silent for a week, and it caused Camila to become more cautious with me. She tried prying it out of me for days, but to no avail, so she decided to just let me be.

I locked myself in my room, trying to think of some solution at my current predicament.

I was angry at Camila for a while. I thought that she was leading me on by getting closer to me and not telling that she wasn't single.

But I soon realized that it was unfair to point the finger at her. She didn't owe me any explanation. She didn't need to tell me that she was with someone else. We weren't together.

She didn't do anything that I could say that she was leading me on. She kept it as friendly as possible, and nothing seemed romantic.

But that's what hurt most. While I was falling hard for her, reading too much of her body language, the truth was that I was wrong. I romanticized everything she did and acted as if she, too, was in love with me.

Unrequited love, I laughed humorlessly.

After exactly a week of radio silence between us, Normani called.

"Lauren.." Normani greeted as soon as I pressed the answer button. "Camila's been calling Dinah and asking what happened to you. She said you're always cooped up in your room and you don't talk to her anymore. She's worried, Laur."

"Yeah..." I said, half listening because I was too overwhelmed with feelings.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I moved around the bed, the room was dark and the only source of light was from outside. Clothes were thrown about on the floor and there was a huge pile of plate on the bedside table, simply because I didn't want to eat with Camila anymore.

I wasn't angry with her anymore though, but that didn't mean I wanted to hang with her. Not anytime soon at least.

Even so, I was worried about Camila's well-being. I was always the one who cooked for us. So now, every time I made food, I always made extra for her with a little note on the side. But that's the only interaction we've had for the past week.

"Lauren, please... you should know by now that I know you better than anyone. Except maybe Camila."

"Yeah..." I said mindlessly. My heart pounded against my chest painfully. It hurt but I ignored it, feeling accustomed with dejection that my heart had gone through.

"You should try talking to her. She's worried about you, you know that? I've never seen her like this. She thinks she did something wrong."

I wanted to argue that it was, indeed, her fault. But I couldn't. It was because of her but it wasn't her fault. She didn't deserve to be blamed, especially since it was because of my own irrational behavior.

"Just try to explain and reason with her Laur. She'll understand."

When we ended the call (with me promising countless times that I'll talk to Camila), I walked towards the door of her room and knocked softly, nerves traveling through my veins.

I heard shuffling noises, along with whispered conversations, on the other side of the door. I racked my brain to try to figure out how to start explaining to Camila. I still didn't know what to say, but that didn't matter because when she opened the door, I saw Michael sitting on the bed with Leo on his lap.

Our bed.

Our dog.

My eyes burned at the sight. And holy fuck, it hurt so much at the confirmation the sight before me held.

I felt everything at once. Betrayal. Jealousy. Pain. Unspoken rejection.

I locked eyes with Camila as my view became blurry. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt a tear fall down my cheek.

We stared at each other and despite what the hazy vision, I saw guilt in her expression.

Shaking my head, I decided that maybe talking isn't the best thing to do right now, not when I feel so raw and hurt. So with that in mind, I turned my heels and walked back inside my room without exchanging any word with Camila.

My feelings were caged well until I was in the safety of my own room. When the lock was secured, a sob made it's way to my throat and it echoed through the otherwise silent room. My back fell to the door and I slid down until I was sitting down, face tugged on my knees as I try to silence the hurtful sobs. It felt like someone was scratching my heart, pulling it down until it feels like it weighs a ton. My arms that were hugging my knees became wet as tears flows down easily.

I heard a hesitant knock that became surer at each second that passed. It vibrated to my body.

I knew it was Camila, who else could it be after all?

I ignored it though, not willing to look at the girl that just broke my heart for the second time.

Unfortunately, she didn't give up easily so she just kept going.

"Lauren..." She said softly, the door muffling her voice. "Laur, can we talk please?"

Silence.

I heard her sigh. "I wanna explain."

Silence.

She continued knocking repetitively on the door, which became increasingly frustrating to me because all I ever wanted was a time to myself for me to accept whatever I just saw

But apparently, that was too much to ask.

So I stood up and aggressively rubbed away the tears on cheek, yanking the door open after.

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked, clear and transparent tone of hostility present as I spat those words out.

She was surprised by the aggression and gulped, suddenly feeling small. She has never seen me mad in a long time, and definitely not this much ever, so this was new to Camila.

My eyes narrowed to her fearful eyes.

I rolled my eyes when she didn't reply and attempted to close the door. But before I could, she immediately stuck her foot in front of her to stop it from fully closing.

I opened the door once more and she immediately walked passed me to my room uninvitedly, determined to talk it out with me.

I sighed, knowing that she isn't going to quit until I talk.

She put a great distance between us, still scared of me. And it hurt that she thinks I'd do anything that could harm her.

No matter how angry I was with her or the situation at hand, I would never do anything that could hurt her. Or anyone for that matter.

But she wouldn't know that. She forgot about me.

A humorless laugh made its way out of my mouth, making the girl before me confused.

She probably thinks I'm crazy.

I was mad at myself. At the end of the day, no matter how much Camila had hurt me, I was the one to blame.

I was the one who let her in again, she didn't do anything. She was always cautious, not wanting to do anything that could jeopardize our progress in being friends.

That's all she's ever wanted; for us to become friends.

She didn't know that I was still in love with her. That I was still longing for us to be together.

But then, I was never one to being subtle. With Camila, I had always put my heart on my sleeve for her to do anything with it.

She could stomp it to the ground and it would still beat for her and only her. She should know that by now.

"What do you want, Camila?" I asked once more. But this time, it sounded defeated more than anything else.

"I feel like I should explain," she answered warily.

"You don't have to. I get it," I said dismissively.

"Well.." She trailed off. "We're together."

The confirmation brought my anger to the surface once more, intensifying at each passing second that soon transfused through the tense air.

"Again," I spat. "I get it."

"Then why are you angry?" She asked dumbly.

"Why I'm angry?" I scoffed. "You really wanna ask me that?"

"Yeah. It's not like we're together or anything." She raised brow, as if to challenge me, becoming quite irritated.

Her words felt like a gun to my heart, the bullet passing though my ribcage and tearing my heart until it bleeds out.

"Oh yeah. But did you have to bring him here, into our apartment where I'm just a few doors away from you? You're not entailed to me and I get that, but fuck Camila, we were married!" My voice becoming increasingly loud. "I get that it doesn't mean anything to you, after all, you can't remember a goddamn thing about me. But I'm not as lucky as you are, you know? My memories that has you in it doesn't just disappear. Could you be more empathetic?"

"I—" She tried but her words died, so I decided to continue. I've held back for far too long to stop now.

"You brought him to the apartment, does that not mean anything to you? Our apartment. To our room. You know? Remember when you asked why I didn't want to stay in that room? I said it didn't feel right. You know why?" I asked rhetorically.

"I didn't want to stay in that room because memories of us will always linger in that room. I will always remember the way you wake up in the room next to me, smiling with that cute smile of yours. Ill always remember the feeling of your back against me as we try to fall asleep. I remember that one time, you were watching various dancing videos on youtube and you tried to follow through their choreography. You forced me to stay and rewind every time you can't catch their dance moves. It ended with you falling because you stepped on your own foot. I had to massage you and become your personal butler that day, because you 'couldn't walk.' But then, that night, when I was bring food to you, there was a crack at the door and I saw you humming and walking back to the bed from the bathroom. I was mad and you became my personal butler that following night for me to forgive you."

I laughed bitterly at the memory.

"I'll always remember you. No matter how hard I try to forget. But you don't care about that. You brought him somewhere that hasn't been infected with broken memories of us, somewhere I consider sacred because of the heavy reminder that you were once mine. But that's it, isn't it? It's basically a reminder that you're not mine anymore.

"You wanna know something? Did you know the reason I let you back here again was because I still want you? I let you in again because I thought I could make you fall for me again. And fuck," I aggressively pulled my hair back, pulling it when I did. "I thought I was doing a good job. But you just— You didn't. And it backlashed because it only resulted in me falling for you again. How I felt for you resurfaced. It was like I was tied down on a train track, and a train just fucking drove through me. And I let it. I can't believe this."

"Laur," she walked towards me but I couldn't let her get close, so I backtracked.

"Please don't. I can't." I was crying, the tears flowing down like a faucet.

"Can't what?" She inquired, her eyes were just beginning to water too.

"I can't stay here. I can't do this anymore. You already brought him here and I don't wanna try and save a place that basically means nothing to you. It was my home, but to you, it's just a place you're staying at."

I paced around the room, not willing to look back at the girl that has no regards about my feelings. I walked to my closet and hastily took out my suitcase.

"Lauren, wait!" Camila ran to me and tried to stop me, her hand touched mine and I retracted it immediately as if it burned me. In a way, it did.

She held a pained expression but I ignored it.

Not wanting to be near her, I walked away, taking my phone and my purse with me.

"I'll just— I'll get my stuff tomorrow. I'll sleep somewhere else tonight. Just stay here, I guess. I don't wanna be here anymore."

I walked out of the room and out of the apartment with Camila trailing behind, trying to stop me.

She couldn't because the second I was out of the building, I got in my car and locked the door. She kept banging on the window, screaming at me to open the door.

I revved up the engine and drove away.

Finally, after more than 2 years of hopelessly holding onto memories that she doesn't even remember, I finally gave up on Camila.


End file.
